to ber8te

The kid opened the doors and slammed scalding coffee into Detective Mills'...areas important.

"Now follow me," said the kid.

"I shouldn't be here," said Mills. There, in the middle of the precinct, in the middle of a crime scene, with horrid and probably acid rain falling upon his being, with squad cars moaning in and out and strobing infrequent but sharp red and blue, with the same fucking taste of coffee he had smelled circa 1995, when Somerset had first met him, after they'd had a few conversations about 'morality' over a few whiskey nights, drawn over a few weeks.

"My mom just got killed near where you are, Mills," said the child, "and I am going to make you find her! You jerk. Walk!"

"What are you? Some type of hacker?" said Mills. He had learned all about computers in his long time under witness protection (as a cop), and evil hackers who can employ children in order to get away with their deeds.

There was more thunder. And more rain.

"Mills," said the child. "I just spent three fucking days in your office pretending to be conscious for you." He was crying. "The cops...they just hovered around, as though they thought nothing was wrong. And your boss...he thinks I'm some type of a transient. Lingering in the office."

The puddles around Mills' pants and sleeves welled up, and he wanted to touch each one as though it were a warm whirring water spout.

Mills picked himself up, and he was much taller than the kid. He picked up what was left of the coffee from 1995. "I'm sorry, kid," he said.

"But I just did a whole night of patrolling and catching all sorts of criminals."

The warm whirring water spouts fell off of Mills' special shoes, whose leather then bore no possible traces of said whirlypool. Only thunder crackled and only the coldest rain, in sleek drizzles began to pelt him.

"You saw the girl I smashed into the wall, right," said Mills, "like so much spaghetti bolognese?"

A look of malice entered the boy's eyes. "I don't think so."

"I know you did. I did it!" he yelled. "Straight into the prison wall, spaghetti bolognese!"

The child recalculated his own position, and placed himself near the dark hole. "That was just you trying to think logically why your old Robocop movie isn't as gory-realistic as the new PG-13 2013 Robocop trailer, my dear David Mills. It was you drooling into your youtube.

And I had to find someone. Someone nearby who I felt could care enough."

"I didn't care," said Mills. "I didn't care enough. And I don't care."

"Nor did I," cried the child. "The last thing I told my mother was that I wished she was my lunch box. So she could replace my shitty meal whenver I opened her with a good one compared to my friends!'"

"Your mother gave you what she knew you needed," said Mills, reaching out into the rain.

"That's what a cop would say," said the child, slipping away.

"Heh," laughed Mills. "Not a detective, huh?"

"You're becoming creepy. I'm going to disappear into the dark tunnel soon," said the kid. "And I hope you will seek me, detective."

The rain became slightly colder, slightly icier, forming icicles around Mills' gun.

"So at the end there," he nodded, and smiled. "Will there be another box or something? Is this what it is about? Me finding a box, and Playstation fanboys make fun of me?"

"After watching you for three days, I'm pretty sure any type of boxes are a big no-no," said the kid, sort of shivering, or laughing. "I tell you what.

You find the killer of my mother, and I will stand there ensuring no type of 'shape' or point ever meets you again."

Then the child quickly vanished/disappeared into the dark tunnel.